


The Fight That Can't Be Won

by PTMalvik



Category: The Thundermans
Genre: Anger, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Revenge, superheroes in trouble, superteens, villians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTMalvik/pseuds/PTMalvik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cape mission, Phoebe is badly hurt. Max wants revenge, but does he want that more than his sister's recovery?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

~*~

When Phoebe leaves the house that afternoon it's in a huff. She's annoyed with Max and Max is happy to see her that way, her full lips pressed into a thin line, her usually smooth brow deeply furrowed. She's taken her superhero uniform with her -- she's still obsessed with winning her cape -- and Max can't find it within himself to care too much about what good deeds she'll be performing, except that they'll be performed out of anger at him, which amuses him on a childish level.

The good thing about being a villain in training? Childishness is a virtue.

He spends the rest of the day hacking into her little-used handheld gaming system and destroying all her saved scores. It's petty and delicious and he hopes she comes home soon to toss it at her with a smirk. He starts waiting for her arrival at five o'clock, keeps waiting as Mom and Dad cook whatever goop they plan on presenting and when she doesn't show up to dinner, he texts her a picture of something delicious that they aren't serving, just to be his own special jerkish self.

More hours pass. Max starts glancing at the door every few minutes, texting after each bout of silence greets him. Phoebe doesn't answer but that's not too unusual, she ignores him when she's annoyed. But something is bugging him, so he texts her an apology, which usually gains an immediate "ok' in reply but ... nothing.

Max's breath catches in his throat. Mom picks up on it, her Thundersense -- or her Momsense -- tingling as it's now close to eleven o'clock at night. "Where did Phoebe say she was going?"

"She didn't say." He texts his apology again. Maybe the network is being stupid. "She was dressed for a cape mission though."

"Oh." His mother sits back, her arms crossed over her chest no doubt remembering the uncertain time schedules of cape missions in her own past. "I guess we can give her a couple more hours."

Max nods, but continues to text. Frantically. "I'm sorry, Pheebs. Please text back, I'm worried about you. You can slap me later, okay? Just let me know you're okay. I'm having this bad feeling. Just one word, okay?"

The evil part of him is ashamed for such groveling, the Max part of him is trying to shove down a burgeoning panic that's climbing up his throat as even this pathetic text goes unanswered. Something is wrong, his sister wasn't that angry and she wouldn't have ignored such a stark plea even if she had made the pledge not to talk to him for a week, which usually only lasts for a day and a half. 

With a shaky breath, he rises, trying to look nonchalant. "I'm going outside to get some fresh air. It smells like Splatburgers in here." 

His father Hank, who's in the kitchen, starts guiltily which distracts his mother. "Hank! Are you hiding something from me again?"

"No, honey!"

"Then why does Max smell Splatburgers?"

Max only vaguely listens as he sneaks out, making sure to snag the Thundervan keys as he goes. He starts the cybervan up and turns on voice activation, strapping himself in as the vehicle lights up to life. "Track Phoebe Thunderman via suit. Bring me there."

The van takes off and Max has never been gladder that he'd secretly installed tracking devices in all of the Thundermans hero suits, ostensibly for nefarious purposes, but mostly because he was nosy and it could turn out to be funny or embarrassing for them at some point. 

This situation is neither funny nor embarrassing. His Thundersense, hell, his twin sense is going off the charts into panic mode as the van speeds along to Metroburg, sliding up the dank riverfront the moment they hit the city limits. He keeps texting as the van rolls along, telling Phoebe that he's going to get her good if this is a prank, but not mentioning that he's on his way to her ... just in case.

The van keeps going, past the somewhat respectable areas next to the river straight into the dark heart of the city's waterfront. These piers are old and filthy, known for the crime that goes unchecked there for decades. Max taps his fingers impatiently against the wheel that's out of his control, hoping they'll go a bit higher into a better neighborhood, but his hopes are dashed when the van screeches to a stop in front of a broken down pier shack, in a corner of the riverside so dark, he wishes he had Mom's light skills to help him along his way.

Taking a deep breath, he enters, whispering Phoebe's name. His heart is pounding and he's sweating in a decidedly non-super villain way. "Are you here?" he says, as the dank smells of the polluted river and rotting wood hits his nostrils. "Come on, Dweebs, it's me. Your better half."

A low groan is his only response.

Every hair on the back of Max's neck stands up. "Pheebs?" 

"Ma... Max?" 

The response is hoarse and tiny, but he knows that voice as well as he knows his own. With a desperate wave of his fingers, Max tries to hit what there might be of a light switch along the walls and thankfully, a single dim bulb goes off.

He almost wishes it didn't.

His sister is lying on the dirty floor, her right arm twisted at an unnatural angle, obviously broken. Her face is a mass of bruises, especially her left eye which has been beaten shut. Her throat convulsive as she swallows, her chest rising shallowly with breaths she struggles to take. Worst of all, her skintight suit is torn in places that make Max's heart stop, his bile rise and the rage ...

God, the rage, it's almost too much to bear. Max makes it to her side, his entire body shaking and fortunately, he has enough wits about him to send out the high-priority emergency signal to his parents, the one none of them have had to use until now. His cell phone beeps red and he kneels down on the dirt-covered floor, too frightened to do anything but rub the back of Phoebe's hand with his fingertips, wondering why his eyes are burning.

Anger, it's anger, Max thinks, irritably wiping away the wetness rolling down his cheeks. "I'm here, Pheebs," he whispers, barely able to look at her, but he does because he wants her to be absolutely sure that she's safe now. He leans down to press his forehead against hers, hoping that she'll know ... she feel ... all the protection he wants to give to her. "I'm taking you home."

She swallows again, her throat working harshly. He knows the effort it takes her to nod at him and he shakes his head, telling her not to bother, but it seems that she wants him to know something too. 

That as long as he's there, she'll be all right.

Max can only wish that were true.

~*~

His parents arrive in less than two minutes, his mother allowing herself to be carried through the sky in uniform by Thunderman who takes in the situation with a sharper eye than Max would have ever given him credit for before.

With a grave face, Hank pulls something from his belt that looks like an old-fashioned cell phone and in what seems like a minute, dozens of super denizens are there, including Metroburg's finest paramedics, with a fully equipped superhero ambulance. 

Much to his chagrin, Max is pushed aside as the paramedics take over, hovering over Phoebe with various instruments, braces and bandages. He starts to yell at them to let him back in there, but he can feel the strong embrace of his mother wrap around him like a vice and he knows that it's to help her control herself as well as him. 

"Mom ..." he gasps. "We can't let her go by herself."

"We won't." Barb's voice is thick with tears. "But we have to let them do their job."

"They're hurting her!" he cries as he feels Phoebe's pain over their twin connection, the second they move her arm to stabilize it. "Stop them!"

"It has to be done," his mother replies, sounding just as distressed. "You need to trust us, Max."

"No!" The waves of Phoebe's agony coming over their unconscious link are almost too much to bear. He pulls himself free of his mother's grasp, but Hank is there in a second and there's no breaking free of Thunderman's embrace. "Let me go, Dad! You don't understand."

"Shhhhh," Hank whispers, his grip as strong as steel and yet as gentle as cotton around Max's shoulders. "You need to understand that we love her too and sometimes, love is forcing yourself to let others take care of those we care about, as hard as that can be."

"Who did this to her?! Why??" Max's cry is loud enough to make the most hardened of Metroburg's super folk glance away in discomfort. The tears are flowing freely now and he couldn't care less how it looks. "I'll find them! I'm going to kill them!"

Hank hushes him again, but weakly, as Phoebe is lifted onto a stretcher and rolled away to the waiting vehicle, with Barb following on obviously unsteady legs. "Come on, Max. You and I will go in the ambulance, Dad will follow." She nods at Hank who hesitantly lets Max free, his wide face pale. "Everything will be alright."

Barb threads her arm through his and he's glad for her support, even if he'd never say it. They are allowed to sit in the back of the ambulance but not allowed to get close to Phoebe who is still surrounded by what seems like a half-dozen paramedics crammed into the tiny, swaying space.

Max closes his eyes and tries to reach Phoebe but there's no response. He can hardly feel his mother's tight grip around his fingers or her hand smoothing through his sweat-damp hair. He can't think of anything except his sister and her broken body, with wounds both obvious and worse, unspoken.

The dark part of Max vows revenge, as bloody and foul as any villain might. The other part of him ... that part can only pray for the best.

~*~

Hours pass slowly, with nothing to look at but the sterile white walls of Metroburg's Superhero General Hospital. Max stares at them, unseeing while his mother works her phone, texting Mrs. Wong whom she asked in a panic to watch Nora and Billy, much to the kids' chagrin. Barb probably didn't mention what was really going on and that was for the best. Billy wouldn't understand -- he didn't understand how gravity worked on the best of days -- and Nora would just be miserable and confused.

Max almost feels jealous of them. "Can we see her now?" he asks for the dozenth time. "All right, let's rephrase that ... can I see her now?"

"They'll come out and tell us when we can," Barb replies, stabbing at her phone, probably as a distraction. "I know it's hard but we need to be patient."

Max throws himself back into the hard plastic chair which responds with a satisfying 'crack'. "Where's Dad? Why isn't he here?" 

Barb shrugs, but her expression is grim. "Your father does what he thinks he needs to do. I can't stop him."

"Stop him?" Max glances over at her confused. Above them, the waiting room television shows what appears to be a small mushroom cloud going up over a well-known lair of Metroburg's newest crop of villains, most of them the worst of the worst, just this side of insane.

Reporters run to and fro in the television camera's range, yelling about the complete destruction of a good dozen villainous headquarters as if one giant, nuclear fist descended on them without any thought or remorse. 

"Oh," Max says, knowing that it's Dad who is taking out those hideouts because of what happened to Phoebe and he's both horrified and proud at the same time. Obviously, this hero and villain business wasn't always as lighthearted as it seemed. "Dad does do what he wants to do when it comes down to it in the end, I guess."

His mother nods, glancing up the destruction playing out over the news with a look of grim satisfaction. "I wouldn't have married him if that wasn't the case."

It's at that moment the doctor comes out. He holds out his hand to Barb so to talk to her across the hall and shakes his head at Max, who nearly plants one on him in fury. But he holds back and the private consultation isn't long, except that Barb's complexion has turned an ashen gray when they return to Max's side.

The doctor, on the other hand, is all tight smiles and arm pats, which Max disdainfully shakes off. "Your sister is going to be alright in a few weeks. She took a beating, but I'm sure gave back as well, considering the bruises on her knuckles and kicking foot. She needs rest and good care, which I know you'll give to her."

"What did they do to her?" Max asks furiously, his throat raw. "I need to know too."

"She has a broken arm, extensive bruising and some minor lacerations," the doctor replies tightly as Barb turns away from Max's gaze. "I'm sure that's enough, isn't it?"

Max wants to call him out as a liar, but instead, he shrugs and nods. "Yeah, that's more than enough. When can we take her home?"

The doctor's shoulders droop with relief. "Twenty four hours more should be sufficient to make sure her vitals are stable for home care."

"You'll help us take care of her, won't you Max?" his mom asks patting his arm.

"Yeah. Sure," he replies, noting how cold her hands are. "Can I see her now?"

The doctor and his mother share a glance, but they both nod. Maybe they want some more 'alone time' to talk. Not that Max cares. He's already shoved his way past the ER doors, into his the curtained off area where Phoebe lies, hooked up to monitors and the business end of multiple IV tubes.

Max steps in silently, pulling the curtain closed behind him. He nods at Phoebe who looks up at him, her uninjured eye dazed and hazy looking. Not that it matters, Max makes sure his chair is as close as it can get and he takes her non-casted hand in his, breathing hard, bringing himself under some sort of control. He tries to ignore her weak squeezes, concentrating instead on what's he's going to do to what's left over of her attackers once Dad is done with them. 

Maybe its her innate sense, maybe it's the bond between them, but Phoebe shakes her head at Max. "Don't," she whispers hoarsely. "Please."

He gives her his best 'who, me?" smile. "You know I'm too lazy for any of that revenge stuff, Pheebs." 

A single tear rolls down her uninjured cheek in reply.

"Stop worrying," he says, but his voice isn't as smooth as he'd like it to be. It's hoarse and tight with anger. "I promise not to do anything that doesn't need doing. Now, you're going to tell me what flavor of ice cream you want once we get home. Oh, Rocky Road? Awesome, that's my favorite too."

"Vanilla is my favorite," she says, weakly, but at least she's talking.

Max brushes a lock of mussed hair back from her forehead with a light touch wincing at another bluish bruise blossoming there. "Don't worry, once I introduce you to the dark side, there won't be any going back. The chocolate and nuts dark side, that is."

"You're nuts," she whispers, but is asleep almost before the last word is spoken. 

They must have put some serious painkillers in those bags, Max thinks. He brings her limp hand to his cheek and holds it there, feeling her soft skin against his, breathing in her scent. Closing his eyes, Max tries to think of how certain people are going pay for what they've done, but his thoughts never stray far from Phoebe, taking note of each labored breath she takes, the pain he can feel as if it's his own. 

He doesn't hear his mother come in, he only senses that she's pulled up a chair next to him and is gently stroking Phoebe's leg. "Was she awake at all?"

Max nods, still holding onto his sister's hand. "For a minute. I think the drugs knocked her out. Is Dad going to get the name of the guy or is he taking them all down first, asking questions later?"

"Does it really matter, Max?" His mother's sigh sounds so incredibly tired and sad.

"Yeah, it kinda does." With care he puts Phoebe's hand down and tucks the blanket over her chilled fingers. "You'd think that the other uncaped kids out there would appreciate the warning."

Barb's back stiffens. Max senses she hasn't thought of that. "Your father will take care of it," she repeats firmly and then, as if eager to change the subject ... "We're going to bring Phoebe home tomorrow in the Thundervan. It converts in a medical transport. That way the neighbors won't ask questions when a Metroburg hero ambulance rolls up."

"What are telling our school? She went skiing in May and hit a half dozen trees?" 

"I'll think of something. I just ... I can't ... just ..." The words become garbled because Barb is weeping openly over her unconscious daughter and Max cringes in discomfort.

"Don't worry, Mom. It's the least of our problems, I guess." He rises and hugs her, rationalizing that even super villains loved their Moms, sort of. He lets her cry it out on his shoulder and when she's done, he gives her a tissue and helps her to the rest room where she can wash her face, which is streaked with tears and that morning's make up. 

He goes back to Phoebe's side and stays there, watching the monitors, watching each breath. He hears his dad in the hallway, talking to his mother in a low voice, along with the doctors and some super powered 'friends' from the old days. 

Max doesn't feel like eavesdropping. He has his own plans to make and they'll have nothing to do with truth, justice or the Super Hero Way. 

He's going to have blood. Heaven help anyone who might try to stop him.

~*~  
to be continued ...


	2. Home

~*~

The ride back Hiddenville is a very slow slog through gray drizzle at some ungodly hour of the morning. Both of Max's parents are extremely concerned about making sure Phoebe isn't accosted by any well-meaning neighbors or friends until she's recovered. 

He's tasked with keeping Cherry at bay, which is about as challenging as tossing a frisbee over a beagle's head to get it going in the opposite direction. Max thinks he might be taking a 'vacation' from school in the form of a suspension anyway -- it won't be that hard to concoct an explosive prank that will make the principal insist he not come back until finals. 

He probably won't even get yelled at for it, considering how distracted his parents are. Not that his concentration is that much better. Phoebe's been awake off and on, but not really saying much and that's not like her. At all.

Max can't stop seeing her on that floor, broken and helpless and his hands clench into fists every time the vision appears. He wants to shake someone, anyone, to get them to tell him what happened and the name of who did it but he has to wait it out, until the time is right. 

Unfortunately, patience is also a virtue, albeit one Max doesn't have, among many others.

The slow ride is making him crazy and he thinks he's about to explode when they finally roll into the driveway. "Thank God," he mutters through grit teeth, joining his father in taking over Phoebe's transport on a stretcher into the house, floating it inside with his telekinesis while is father uses his strength to keep it steady. 

Billy and Nora are waiting for them. They immediately fly into Barb's arms, both of them bursting into tears when they see the condition their sisters is in. Max ignores them -- making up stories to soothe them isn't his job -- and concentrates on getting Phoebe into her bed safely. 

Once that's accomplished, he lets Barb undress her and tuck her in while he and Dad head to the kitchen for something to drink. Exhausted, Max puts his head on the table while Billy and Nora hover silently nearby. "Not now guys," he grumbles, feeling their nervous energy getting just that close to bursting out. "Just ... not now."

"Okay," Nora whispers. "Do you want a juice box?"

"Yeah," Max replies with a sigh. "That would be great."

"I'll take one," his Dad says, his voice hoarse. "It's going to be okay guys. All right? Phoebe's home and safe now. Nothing to worry about."

Max lifts his head and gives his father a skeptical look. "Really?"

His father's face is as hard a stone. "You know what you said a minute ago? Let me repeat that. Not now, Max. Just ... not now."

Max stabs the straw into the juice with a furious jab. "It'll have to be dealt with sometime," he shrugs. 

"It's been dealt with, as far as you're concerned." Hank's voice raises just enough to constitute a warning. "Drink your juice and let it go."

"If you let your juice go, I'll clean it up for you Max," Billy pipes in hopefully. "Spill as much as you want."

"Thanks guy," Max replies, too tired to snark at the kid. 

Barb joins them a few minutes later, her expression pale and far too tired. She waves away an offered juice and slips her arm through her husband's, leaning her head on his shoulder.

The family sits like that for a while, lost in their own thoughts, starting when a moan comes from Phoebe's bedroom. Barb is the first one up and Max is right behind her, with Hank and the kids coming up in the rear.

Phoebe's no longer asleep, if anything her uninjured eye is wide open and radiating pain. Her voice is a raspy gasp. "Mom ... it hurts." Max winces at her twisted grimace, physically shying back when Phoebe tries to sit up and fails with a sharp cry of pain. 

"I know, baby. That's the IV painkillers wearing off. They said you have to be weaned off of them, but we have some other things we can give to you. Lie still and we'll get it for you," Barb says waving her hand at Hank. "Honey, go get the pharmacy bag in my purse, please and some water."

Max inches closer until he's precariously perched on the edge of Phoebe's bed, sitting by her side. Almost immediately, she fumbles for his hand to clutch which he takes and holds onto tightly. "Why can't she have the good painkillers until she's better?" he asks sharply.

"Because she'll be addicted by that time. They're too strong for long term use," Barb says, as Hank comes back with the medication bottle, both of them taking turns trying to get past the childproof cap until Nora takes it and opens it in one try. With an eyeroll, Barb shakes out a large capsule and hands it to Max with the water. "Here, you do it. You're good with helping her."

Max looks at the capsule in his hand, then back to his mother. "I am? Phoebe hates swallowing pills."

"All right, I'll put it another way. You're good at getting her to do things she hates," Barb says. "Here, we'll give you room and you help her take that. Come guys, everyone out for now. Let Max work his magic."

"My magic?" Max repeats as they all obediently troop out. He exhales noisily and looks down at Phoebe who is staring at the pill and shaking her head. "Sorry Pheebs, but you have to take it."

"I don't really need it," she whispers, obviously lying. 

"Yeah, you do." 

Emphatically, she shakes her head again, this time with lips sealed tight. Max can't help but think how young and small she looks and a wave of deep affection for her washes over him, much to his surprise. He squeezes her hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over her knuckles and her eyes close for a moment.

"I guess I can try. But don't hold my nose like last time."

"Nah. We'll do it the right way,"Max says, carefully helping her up into a sitting position, pausing each time she inhales sharply. It takes a little while but eventually, she's up. "Okay. Now take a mouthful of water and keep it in there."

She looks at him strangely, but does as he instructs. 

"Put the capsule in your mouth, lean your head forward and let it float to the back," Max says, rubbing her back in soothing circles. He leans in close to her ear and whispers ... "Chocolate cake."

She swallows automatically at the description of her favorite food. "It went down." She sounds amazed. "It's gone. Just like that." 

"Maybe I am a magician," Max says, rising and holding her good arm close as he levers her back underneath the covers, making sure her hair isn't trapped under her back. "Good?"

"Good." She smiles at him and for a brief second, she looks like her old self again, bruises and cuts and blackened eye not withstanding. "Stay with me a few more minutes?"

"Sure, want me to tell Mom to come back?"

"Not yet," Already her voice sounds sleepy, as the pill takes quick effect. "Just wanna be with you."

"Really?" He tries to sound surprised, but deep inside, he understands. Sometimes there was no one else in the world he wanted to be with except his twin, because no one else in the world, except for Phoebe, could possibly understand how he felt. Especially when things were bad. As much as they tussled, as often as they fought, she was always the one he could count on to help. 

He's glad to know the feeling is mutual. 

Max plays idly with her fingers, noting how much their hands look alike as Phoebe slips back into a more restful doze. He examines her for a while, cataloguing her injuries more closely -- the terrible swelling of her eye, the bruises and cut on her lip, unable to help but wonder how they got there. He allows the heat of anger flare up again, like a fire in his gut, the back of his neck feeling as if its being squeezed in a vice. 

"I'll be back later," he whispers roughly, leaning down to kiss her forehead, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin against his lips. "Got to start taking care of business."

"Mmmmm?" she murmurs but quiets when he presses a gentle finger to her lips. 

"Go to sleep. You're safe now, okay? I promise."

Her response is barely audible. "'Kay."

Max closes the door quietly behind him as he leaves the room. He nods at his mother who looks intensely relieved that the medicating has gone without incident and he slides down into his lair without another word. The bed he lands on feels tempting -- nothing would feel quite as good as stretching out and going to sleep for a week, but there's no time for that.

He opens up one of his half dozen laptops, this one specially built to be completely anonymous and untraceable, pass coded and scrambled to within an inch of its life. Max sets up a voice dialing system and puts in the number of every villain, current and retired, he has in his collection.

Dr. Colosso watches this from his cage, his nose twitching slightly. "I heard the High Priority alarm go off. Anything I should know about?" he asks, his tone conversational, but Max knows he's practically dying of curiosity.

Max doesn't look up from his programming. "Phoebe was badly hurt on a cape mission." 

The rabbit's laugh is unseemly. "Did she fall down some stairs?" 

Max's hand curls momentarily into a fist, but he forces himself to relax. He needs to concentrate and Dr. Colosso was never anything else except a colossal ass anyway. "Someone beat her almost to death. A someone you're going to help me find," he replies blandly, going over the numbers and making sure they're correct.

For once, the rabbit is silenced for more than a few seconds. He coughs a little, as if he's clearing his throat. "I'm a bit out of the loop, my boy. I mean, I'd help if I could but ..."

"You can help and you will," Max says in such an icy calm voice, the rabbit's long ears flatten back in fear. "I've set this up so you can voice dial all your old acquaintances without being traced back here. I have the headset in your size so you're going to talk into the mike and get any information you can. Villains like to brag so one of them will have heard something."

"But, Max ..."

Max glares at him. He doesn't know what the Doctor sees in his eyes but all complaining immediately ceases. He slides the computer over and puts the headphones on him, pointing at the external microphone.

"Get to it," he orders, feeling the familiar heady rush he gets from giving commands. Max wonders if his parents still think this is a temporary state when it's obvious to him that he was born to go bad and that this 'phase' is just Phase One of something wonderfully sinister, perfectly evil -- his anger over Phoebe's condition is just an extenuating circumstance. A tool. A smokescreen for his ambition.

So Max tells himself for the next several hours as he prepares to take himself to another -- more interesting -- level.

Phoebe, he repeats to himself like a mantra, is just part of the game and like a good supervillian, Max ignores the fact he's lying to himself, over and over again.

~*~


	3. Suspension

0o0o0o

Max finds that as tired as he is, he has a terrible time sleeping this night. There are nothing but bad dreams to be had, nothing but hours of seeing Phoebe's twisted body over and over again, hearing her voice plaintively asking why he didn't come sooner. In a dark corner of the pier house there's a shadow lurking and for the first time, he feels a fear he can't bear to face.

The nightmare comes slithering like a snake over their twin bond, his sister's memory of horror shared and he can sense Phoebe's terror and pain as if it were his own. He can't see the assailant's face, try as he might, only feel their fists bruise flesh and break bones with a sickening series of cracks, then, later, cold hands touching in ways that make Max want to scream. 

With a gasp, Max sits up in his bed, shaken. Wipes a clammy hand over his face before sliding out of bed, wishing not for the first time he'd had thought of rigging up his own coffee maker in the lair. He checks on Dr. Colosso who is sleeping peacefully in his cage and decides to let him doze for a while longer before putting him back to work finding Phoebe's assailant. 

The stairs are silent and dark as it's not even dawn yet. Max climbs them slowly feeling older than his years, his joints aching with fatigue. He shuffles into the kitchen and decides to put on the kettle for tea as the coffee maker is too complicated to be bothered with so early. He sits at the table, scrubbing his hands over his hair, trying futilely to clear his head. 

It doesn't work. The kettle goes off with a whistle and Max makes two cups, deciding to bring one into Phoebe's room. She likes it strong and lukewarm anyway, it'll be that way when she wakes up to it on her dresser. Yawning, he climbs the stairs to the upper floor and only knocks perfunctorily on her door with a gentle tap. 

Surprisingly, she's wide awake, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling with her cast-covered arm cradled on her chest. She looks like hell -- correction, she looks just like Max knows he does -- and he tiptoes over, grimacing at how pale she is.

"Did I wake you up?" He puts the tea cup down on the nightstand by her good arm. "Didn't mean to."

"No. I've been awake for a while. What are you doing up?"

"Bad dreams," he replies, offering a hand to leverage Phoebe into a sitting position. It only take a minute -- they're already getting better at this. He blows on the tea first before giving it to her and she waits for it patiently, with a thin grin, amused at the care he's taking with it.

He helps her take the first sip so it doesn't spill as she can only hold the cup in one hand. She takes it from there and they drink the steaming tea together in companionable silence as the dawn edges up between her lace curtains. Max has never told Phoebe but he likes her room, it's neat and not overly feminine, at least not in an obnoxious way. It has a certain touch of elegance to it, with her swing chair being the only overt sign of a teenage girl's whimsical nature. 

"I had bad dreams too. What were yours?" Phoebe is looking at Max over the rim of her cup, curiously. 

Max snorts. "You can't guess? Okay, I dreamt I was a good guy, wearing one of Dad's old suits. That hadn't been dry-cleaned after he'd been wearing it a week. How's that for scary?"

Her look remains level ... searching. "That's pretty frightening. Are you sure that was it?"

"No, that wasn't it. Why are you even asking? You know we have the same dreams when ... " With an exasperated sigh, he smacks down his tea on her dresser, not caring as it splashes. "When we're stressed out. Do you really want to talk about this right now?"

"Not really," Phoebe replies, with a tired shake of her head. Her hand is trembling slightly as she gives him her tea to put aside. "The less we think about it, the better."

"Right." The space between them grows awkward as the sun shifts through the room, brightening it, heralding morning. "I guess I got to get ready for school. Do you want me to get you something to eat? Help you get another pill down?"

She picks up a pill bottle that's sitting by her bedside and shakes it proudly. "Already down and away. Thanks to your neat trick. And Mom will bring me some breakfast later, so no worries. Get to school and don't let Principal Bradford get you down."

Max finds that his head is starting to hurt just at the thought of having to suffer through another day of school. "He's the least of my problems, for now. See you in a bit." He leans in to press a quick, embarrassed kiss to the top of her head and bounds out of the room before she can make fun out of him.

She does yell out something, but Max doesn't listen. He has a busy day ahead of him today ... and a busier night as well.

0o0o0o

Getting suspended from school for a couple of weeks but not going as far as getting expelled is simply a matter of doing what he usually does, times five. Max calculates that flooding the bathrooms on the higher floors at the same rate as he usually does on the lower floors, two toilets, but with a more destructive rate due to the greater elevation along with changing his own grades in the school computer (but not taking pay for changing others) will get him booted on a temporary basis for a substantial period of time.

His calculations pay off. A red-faced Principal Bradford proclaims Max suspended for two weeks and banned from sophomore prom, which is fine as he's in no mood to think about proms and not sure he ever will be. He gathers up his assignments -- there's no getting out of homework at any rate -- and heads home, steeling himself for his mother's angry response.

Which, to his surprise, he doesn't get. When he arrives Barb is already in a panicked state, running in circles looking for the car keys, her face pinched with irritation. He doesn't get time to explain why he's home, she's already yelling and waving her arms at him about something unrelated, a situation which suits Max perfectly.

"Great, you're here. Do me a favor and give Phoebe her lunch, it's already on the stove," she says in a rapid staccato. 

He treads cautiously, from long practice. "Sure. What's up?"

"Your brother super glued his lips together again and I have to bring him to the Metroburg clinic this time or else they'll charge us for transportation," she says, grabbing her jacket and the wrong purse, which she comes flying back in to exchange for the right one. "You're a lifesaver, sweetie. I owe you one."

"I'll remember that," Max says, waving her off with an inner sigh of relief. Sure, she'll be mad but it will be the muted anger of exhaustion and he sends a thought of thanks to Billy and his glue addiction. 

On the stove is a warm pot of tomato soup and a freshly made grilled cheese, which he would have normally ate himself, to heck with anyone else, but this time, he can share it. Max loads the tray, carries it upstairs and is glad to see Phoebe sitting in her bed, scrolling through her phone with her good hand. 

"Lunch is served," he announces with a flourish.

Phoebe's eyes widen. "It's noon, Max. What are you doing home?"

He puts down the tray and pulls up a spare stool. "Bradford seems to think I'm the Mad Plumber of the Fourth Floor. I tried to tell him I'm the Demon Pipe Breaker of the Second Floor but he didn't buy it. Oh, and we're not going to the prom. I said you did that other thing I did, but you'll have an alibi when you get back, I think."

Her jaw drops. "Max!"

"Eat up or I'll eat it for you. Wow, tomato soup and grilled cheese," he says, taking a bite from the still-warm sandwich. "I think Mom does like you better."

"Why did you do that?" Visibly upset, she pushes away the cup of soup he offers her. "That's crazy! Did you get expelled?"

"Calm down, it's just a two-week suspension. No biggie."

"No biggie? Mom's going to kill you. Dad's going to ... well, I don't know what Dad's going to do, but Mom's going to hit the ceiling worse than Dad does. How did you get by her anyway? Didn't she freak?"

Max tries not to look smug, but he fails. "She had an emergency appointment with Billy's medical team. He's been in the Superglue again."

Phoebe holds a hand to her forehead "Eyelids or lips?"

"Lips. So I have only three hours this time, but that will be enough. Come on, sis. It's not so bad. You'll get to hang out with your favorite twin for fourteen days of endless fun." He cuts the grilled cheese into quarters, surprised when she turns down a piece. "You have to eat, Phoebe."

"I don't want to eat!" she cries and Max is taken aback by the vehemence of her tone. "Everyone around here is acting stupid, including you! Mom and Nora keep crying when they think I'm not looking, Dad's been gone all day for days and you're getting yourself suspended to bring me lunch ... I hate this!"

"Billy's acting normal," Max points out weakly, glad that Phoebe has no idea of his true intentions. He puts down the food, his appetite gone as well. "So that's something."

"Is it?" Her eyes turn bright with tears. "I feel like I'm hurting all of you by being an idiot enough to get hurt. It's bad enough I was such a moron but when I see what it's done to all of you ... "

Her sentence ends on a muffled sob and Max feels the anger at Phoebe's attacker well up again, like acid in his veins. "Don't say that. No, really, you need not to say that. What this person did was not your fault." He leans close and tilts her chin up with his finger, forcing her to meet his gaze up close. "You can't lie to me, Phoebe. No one knows you better than I do. I know what happened to you. I may not know every detail, but I know for sure it's not anything that you did wrong."

Phoebe starts to cry in earnest. "I was so stupid, Max. I thought I could handle a real supervillian, I was so sure. But I'm just a stupid kid with stupid powers that I don't know how to use and ..." 

Sobbing, she leans into his embrace and Max gathers her into his arms, breathing hard. "It's not your fault," he repeats hoarsely, feeling as if he's choking on every word. "No one blames you."

"I wish I'd died," she whispers thickly against his neck. "I really do."

"Do you want me dead too?" he replies, his eyes burning. "Because that's what would have happened if you hadn't come home to us. Don't pretend that you don't know that."

She shakes her head. "No. You know I don't want that. I just want this to stop."

"It will. Give it time," he says, not telling her that everything will be over once he takes care of the man who hurt her ... for good. "Come on, stop crying. I'm getting dweeb tears all over my favorite hoodie and those never wash out."

Her chuckle is weak, but it's something at least. Eventually, he gets her to sit up and blow her nose, which she does with a very Phoebe-like honk. It takes him a while but he gets her to take a few sips of soup and slide back into bed, tucked beneath the covers, with another pain-killer to help her take a rest. 

0o0o0o

Max waits until she's deep asleep, this time without dreams. He silently slips out of the room and back into his lair, where Dr. Colosso is waiting for him, nervously chewing on a bit of headphone wire. 

He ignores the rabbit for a bit, changing out of his school clothes and into one of the form-fitting black suits that he's had lying in wait for him to have an opportunity to use it. There is no Thunderman's emblem on the suit, it's as blank as a starless night, leaving him as a faceless menace too all who come in contact with him, which is just what he wants.

So better to face and annihilate whomever or whatever it was that hurt Phoebe, Max thinks, feeling impatient that it's still so early in the day. But from the nervous tapping of the good Doctor's paw, he -- hopefully -- has news for him.

"Give it to me," Max orders, pulling on his custom made belt the one that all sorts of nasty items attached, some internet-inspired, some homemade. "Do we have a name?"

"No. But I have an address. However, you might want to ..." 

He ignores the rabbit's anxious tone. "That's all I need."

"But ..."

Max's temper flares to full life. His tone is low, but deadly. "Give it to me. Now."

The rabbit sighs, sadly even. "I sent it to your phone. All I can say, is be careful. We old time bad guys used to have a code of honor -- I'm not so sure about this new batch."

Max wants to laugh, but he doesn't have the energy. He saves the message without looking. "This 'new batch' is going to get schooled from an even newer batch."

Who is going to be worse than they ever dreamed, Max thinks, waiting impatiently for night to finally fall.

0o0o0o

continued in Part Four....

Thank you for the reviews, all are appreciated!  
PT


	4. Gemini

0o0o0o

Max is already in Metroburg when the sun sets. His foot taps impatiently against the pavement of the backyard he's been hiding in. No Thundervan to chill out in this time, he has zero interest in any possibility of his parents catching him - not tonight.

The address he's been given looks like an ordinary house in a residential neighborhood, not unlike his own. He expected something darker, more sinister, but its mundane exterior chills him more than the rotting pier house did. He shakes off the fear and lets the anger fill him instead, if he's smart about this he can take care of Phoebe's attacker for good, gaining peace for both of them.

Because he knows that she's still afraid and that's not something Max is going to allow. Not by some worthless, half-assed Metroburg creep masquerading as a super villain.

Max is going to be glad to show him how the dark side is done.

He checks his equipment and enters the house by freezing the door knob and lock just enough to shrink them into sliding open. His heart is pounding as he enters and things get weirder as he scans what looks like an ordinary living room with his homemade night vision glasses. With all the stealth he can muster, Max goes from room to room, finding the house not only empty, but unlived in, without signs of habitation of any sort, more like a movie set than a home.

His Thundersense starts its deep thrum and in the back of his brain he can hear Phoebe screaming his name, warning him - something is not right. In fact, something is really, really wrong ...

That's when the steel walls come down inside the house, covering all the exits with a sleek hiss. Max jumps in surprise, whirling around in shock, wondering what the hell is going on. He doesn't have to wonder long when he looks down to see his shoes already covered by an inch of cold water, the floor sinking as the water rises, as if in a huge tank.

A water tank there is no escape from. It takes less than a minute for the water to reach his shins and Max knows he's in real trouble. He peers around in a panic, trying to figure a way out and curses his decision to leave all communications behind, so no one would be able to track him.

The water is up to his knees and in another minute, he's going to be swimming, straight to nowhere. He tries his heat breath on the wall but that just makes the room fill with steam. Freeze breath will only encase him in ice and he's left with his telekinesis which he's never tried on anything much larger than a few random building parts.

Forcing himself to concentrate, Max closes his eyes and stretches both arms out to the opposite walls, focusing on pushing them out and away ... out and away. The steel sways and bends slightly, but it's too strong, he doesn't sense it breaking.

The water keeps rising and he's forced to try to balance on the back of a couch as he keeps pushing out, hoping that if he succeeds, the roof doesn't cave. Still, as the water reaches his waist, floating him toward an immovable ceiling, that is going to be the least of his problems.

Max starts to hyperventilate, whispering 'come on, come on,' behind clenched teeth and can't help but cry out when his foot slips and he falls underneath the inky cold water for a few seconds, coming up spluttering for air. His night vision goggles slip off and he's completely in the dark now, his concentration shattered but he has to try ... he can't die here ... not like this ...

He gives it one more weak push. To his surprise, he feels a tremendous surge of telekinetic strength pulse through the room, twice as powerful as it usually is and with a terrible grinding creak, one wall blows out completely, opening the room and sweeping a flood of water, the furniture and Max with it to the street outside. All Max can do is hold on and hope nothing too heavy lands on top of him as he grinds along the gravel, sputtering and flailing and never so glad not to be dead.

Max clutches at a bit of lawn grass for a long moment, trying to catch his breath, shivering in the cold night air, wet to the bone. There's still no one around, perhaps the rest of these 'homes' have interesting surprises as well and Max silently takes back what he said about this guy - he's definitely some kind of super villain, the insane type.

Shakily rising, he brushes futility at his soaked suit. Ignores the trembling of his hands and when his eye catches an ornate silver envelope hanging from the tree he landed at the base of, Max knows that it's a message for him. He spits some of the foul water from his mouth and reaches for it, tearing it down from its ribbon with far more bravado than he feels.

What was written on the note makes Max's blood run cold.

_Say hi to your sister for me. Regards, Gemini_

The note shakes like a leaf in his hand. He stares at it amidst the ruin of the house before taking off and heading back home as fast as he can. He should have listened to the stupid rabbit, he should have been better prepared, he shouldn't have been so damned sure of himself. Over and over the voice in his head berates him and he can't run fast enough to the station, and even once inside the train isn't going fast enough and Max curls away in a corner of the swaying car, away from the unconcerned glances of fellow passengers who are somewhat used to the sight of a random supe looking unkempt in a skintight suit.

Max's teeth are chattering by the time he reaches home, not only from the cold. He can't strip fast enough and the hot water in the shower takes away a little of the misery as he stands with his forehead pressed to the tiles, letting the spray sluice over his body in warm waves. He towels off and throws on a tee and sweats, not having any idea what time it is, but knowing that it's probably way to late - or too early - for Phoebe to be sitting up in his lair, waiting for him, perched delicately on the edge of his bed.

Her expression is calm - serious, even - but in her eyes there is no mistaking the accusations she's that close to hurling at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I snuck out for a little me time," he says with a nonchalance he doesn't feel, hoping she can't hear the quiver in his voice. "Feel free to rat me out. I don't care."

"I felt it, Max," she replies, her lower lip trembling. "I felt what happened to you. I don't know why or how, but I knew that if I didn't send over my powers to help you something ... " Her unbroken fingers clutch at the comforter covering Max's bed and those huge brown eyes that Max has seen everything in, from boundless affection to red hot anger, are filling with tears. "Something really bad was going to happen to you. What was it, Max? Where were you? You were in danger, I want to know why."

His breath catches in his throat. That surge of telekinesis ... it was Phoebe, coming to his rescue, all the way from Hiddenville. Not even knowing why, just knowing that she had to and she did ... she was the one who saved him. The thought leaves him dizzy and sick with guilt as well as filled with a new admiration for her abilities. "I ... I went to Metroburg," he says, sitting down next to her, feeling her good hand slip into his, squeezing his convulsively. "I wanted to find the guy who hurt you and ... you know ... let's just say I wasn't expecting him to pull the Houdini in a water tank trick on me."

"Oh Max ..." Her voice is thick with tears. "You could have gotten killed. He's not like the others. He's real - he's _vile_."

"Yeah, I figured that out when I almost drowned inside a booby-trapped house." Max wonders if he should mention the note and decides not to. Instead he puts an arm around Phoebe's trembling body and pulls her close, smoothing her long hair with his fingers. "Thanks for saving me. You really are a superhero, an amazing one," he says with a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. "But next time, don't wait so long. You know my swimming sucks."

"There isn't going to be a next time. Promise me, Max, promise me you won't do that again or go anywhere near him. Dad has to take care of this," Phoebe begs. "We're not ready for this kind of challenge and if something happens to you ..." She shudders in Max's embrace. "Please, just promise me."

Max shuts his eyes and only hesitates a second before nodding. "I promise," he lies, knowing that he won't do anything of the sort. Nothing will stop him from getting this guy, not after tonight. "No more being a good guy." Her hair is soft against his cheek and he rocks her gently until she relaxes in the crook of his arm, almost in a doze.

Carefully, Max maneuvers her under the covers tucking her in before crawling on top of the comforter curling up next to her, wondering at how easily they fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle. She smells like that bright pink soap he pretends to hate and he plays aimlessly with a lock of her dark hair, letting it slide like silk between his thumb and forefinger until sheer exhaustion overtakes him and he sleeps, deeply and without dreams, wrapped around Phoebe's warm length.

Not realizing that he left his suit with the note in it in the bathroom where Hank Thunderman stands, holding them both in a pair of clutched fists.

0o0o0o

continued in Part Six ...

Sorry for the delay, RL stepped in.

Thank you so much for reading and for your reviews, I appreciate them.


	5. Game Plan

0o0o0o

Max wakes up late the next morning, somehow beneath the blanket with Phoebe wrapped around him instead of the other way around. Her head is resting against his chest, broken arm slung easily over his waist and the night has been blissfully free of nightmares. There's a shaft of sunlight peeking through the lair's lone window piercing the usual gloom and he peers owlishly around the room, wondering what time it is.

Of course, to Max's abject horror, his parents are standing at the foot of his bed, their expressions a twisted mix of enraged and terrified, the color of their cheeks shifting and draining from crimson to white back to crimson again when they see he's awake.

It's not a good look on them. Especially to Max. "Hey, guys," he croaks. "What's up?"

His mother looks like she wants to hit him with a lightning bolt. "When did you plan on telling us about your suspension?"

His father is even angrier. "Where did you get this note?" he demands, shaking the leaf of paper left behind on Max's ill-fated night of thwarted vengeance. "What were you doing out in that supervillian outfit we told you not to wear?"

Max cringes and points a finger at Phoebe who is shifting restlessly beside him. "Keep it down, guys. She needs her sleep," he whispers, hoping they'll buy it, but it doesn't look likely. "As for the suspension, I didn't tell you about that? I figured your Mom sense had picked up Bradford's howls already."

"I'm not interested in any of that," Hank interjects sharply, holding a hand up to silence his wife who looks like she's about to explode. Again, he shakes the note at Max, as furious as Max has ever seen him, maybe more so and it's a terrifying sight. "What is this? Who is this and why are they communicating with you about your sister? What did you do, Max?"

Max desperately tries to think of a reply, when Phoebe's sleepy voice answers for him. "Max was pranked, Dad," she lies with disturbing ease. "Colosso sent him on a wild goose chase to a fake supervillian's lair, thinking it was funny, that's all. I already made fun of him for you, don't worry."

Hank blinks and his entire imposing presence drains of fury, making him appear deflated. "Oh," he says, glancing at the note sheepishly. "Well, that was stupid of him. Stupid of both of them."

Phoebe props herself up on her good elbow, making a wry face. "This surprises you? That Max and his rabbit are stupid?"

"What about the suspension?" Barb asks pointedly, nowhere near as mollified as Hank. "What is that all about?"

For once, Max can answer with complete honesty. "I wanted to help take care of Dweebs, that's all," he shrugs. "Yeah, I know, that's stupid too, but ..."

The atmosphere in the room changes in the blink of an eye. Barb's mouth drops open and there are tears in her eyes. "Oh sweetie ..."

"We could have taken you out of school for a little while, Max," Hank says, falling back into his usual laid back demeanor, thanks goodness, although it's clear that Thunderman isn't just a big bear dad-type when provoked, Max thinks with a shiver. "You should have asked."

"Is that the way I do things?" Max feels a sudden wave of relief wash over him. He might get away with this after all. Sort of. Thanks to his sister lying for him. "Besides, getting us both banned from the sophomore prom is just another bit of triumph for my autobiography."

With a groan, Barb throws her hands up in the air and stomps up the stairs with Hank following her, shaking his head, but still visibly relieved. Max shrugs sweetly at him making sure he's gone before collapsing with relief onto the pillow. "Wow, I thought I was dead for sure."

"You were," Phoebe says tiredly. She slides down next to him with grimace. Her facial injuries look a lot better, but Max can sense she's still sore and her arm will take weeks more to heal. "I'm not taking another one for the 'team', Max. What you did was stupid on every level."

"I did do it for you," he argues. "Besides, are we really going to let this guy go now? It's not like we can sic Dad on him now. He thinks it's just one of Colosso's pranks. If anyone's going to take care of him, it has to be me."

Phoebe sighs. It's obvious that in her sleepy state she didn't think everything through. "You really want to get killed, don't you?"

"No. But we've already proven we can work together, even with you laid up here. I'll just be smarter about it this time. We both will." He curls in close next to her, placing a gentle finger under her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. "The mistake we made was trying to take this Gemini character on by ourselves. But together, we're invincible, I'm sure of it."

Worry fills her huge brown eyes. "God, Max ... I don't know."

"Between my tech hardware and our twin connection powers, they don't stand a chance," he says, with a confidence he only partly feels. "You'll be perfectly safe here, no matter what."

"I'm not worried about myself. Being safe here while you're out there getting hurt doesn't make me feel any better," she insists. "What if something goes wrong? Really wrong? Like it almost did last night?"

"Then you can rat us out to Dad and Mom. I give you full permission."

"Oh, that's great," she groans, but he sees her softening toward the idea, just a little bit.

"You'll get your cape for sure," he says, hoping to appeal to Phoebe's ambitious side. "Doesn't that sound good?"

She glances away, her expression unreadable. For the first time, Max senses something painful she's hiding from him and he doesn't like it. He snuggles in closer, pressing his nose against her cheek, something he used to do when they were small, a gesture that always made her smile. It still works, just not as well as it used to but for Max it will have to be enough.

"I'll think about it," she replies, but Max already knows she'll go along with his plan. "For now I just want to go back to sleep."

"You and me both," he yawns and they hunker back down, both of them asleep about a minute apart, one, as always, not far behind the other.

0o0o0o

They sleep until past noon, getting up grudgingly as the shadows are already lengthening in the lair's ambient light.

Phoebe runs a hand through her unruly hair, making a face as she does so. "Mom washed this like three days ago. Think she's still too pissed off to ask for another shampoo?"

"I'll do it," Max replies automatically. He shrugs when Phoebe looks suspiciously at him. "I said I stayed home to help. That was sort of true."

"Look Max, if you try to use old mustard again ..."

For the first time in days, Max laughs. "Yeah, that was a good one but we were ten, okay? We'll use the garage sink, it has a deep basin and a spray nozzle. And that way we can avoid Mom and Dad for a few more hours." He rummages through his towel drawer for supplies, tossing things aside as he goes. "Okay, I have a clean towel and I can use either Head and Shoulders or Rabbit Sparkle, for all your bunny bathing needs."

"Fresh carrot scent," Colosso pipes in, awake and watching them curiously.

Phoebe makes another face. "That's a choice? The human shampoo is fine. Dad hasn't washed out the car mats in the sink recently has he? Last time he did was when Billy got car sick and ..."

Max winces, waving her quiet. "I'll scrub it out first."

The garage is right outside the lair and Max goes to work, rolling up his sleeves and cleaning the sink thoroughly with hard soap and rinsing until it shines. Phoebe comes in, wearing one of his old tank tops over her PJ bottoms and he sits her down, back to the sink and takes the comb she hands him to detangle first.

He takes his time -- Phoebe's hair is very long and thick, but it breaks easily and she's been through too much already to end up with bald patches. The bruises on her scalp and forehead are healing nicely, but Max makes sure to avoid scraping the comb near them nonetheless. When he's satisfied that it's completely knot-free, he rolls up the towel and puts it on the sink's edge, before gently leaning Phoebe's head back under the water spray.

Of course, he forgets to check its temperature and she squeaks at how cold it is. With some fumbling it's adjusted and Max is surprised at how heavy her wet hair is and how hard it is to thoroughly wash and rinse. "Have you ever thought about cutting it?" he asks after the tenth pass of water through her soapy locks. "It would make life a lot easier."

A long pause follows.

Phoebe's swallows hard, her eyes tightly shut. "He threatened to cut it off, so no ... I'm not cutting. I don't think I'm ever cutting it again," she whispers, her voice raw.

"He? Who's he?" Max asks without thinking and then it hits him ... Phoebe's attacker, that's who she's referring to and the bile rises hotly in his throat. The bastard Gemini beat her, threatened to _cut off her hair_ and .... and ...

His hands are shaking as he finally finishes the job, helping his sister to sit up, her hair falling wetly around her face. She's not crying -- worse, she looks incapable of it -- and Max takes her cold cheeks in his hands, making her look at him.

"We're going to take care of this. Not Dad ... not Mom ... not anyone else, but us. He's not going to be doing anything because we're getting rid of him, okay?"

"I don't know," she breathes, shaking her head, water beading and dripping down her neck, making her look both very young and vulnerable. "Do you really think we can?"

"Yes," he answers shortly and grabs the towel to put around her shoulders. "I'm going to order some pizza and we're going to eat and then I'm going to do some research by myself. Colosso can go eat a head of lettuce."

"I don't think he'll mind that." Phoebe grasps his offered hand for help back to the lair and Mrs. Wong's bike boy delivers two pies quickly, as if he's done it before. Max pays him with a hacked video game disc -- or so he claims -- and the pizza is all right, at least it's hot.

Max takes large bites of pizza, near boiling as it is and taps away at his multiple computers, muttering something about the Dark Web. Phoebe doesn't really want to know, she can't seem to think further than the moment, but she listens as he describes various Metroburg criminals, making him pause when he comes to one described as a mutant that can split into two separate beings.

"That might be a lead."

"Why? What does Gemini mean again?"

Phoebe breaks a bit of crust between her fingers, no longer hungry. "Two out of one. That's the classical meaning anyway. There are ..."

"Yeah, yeah ...." Max interjects, excited. "This guy is new, just came on the Metroburg scene about a year ago, able to be in two places at once. He's never been arrested because he's always had a convenient alibi and is known for being a ..." He pauses, taking a long sip of soda before clearing his throat. "Sadistic bastard."

Phoebe's throat tightens. "Sounds about right."

"Awesome!" Max looks a lot more excited than he should. Happy, almost. "Should I suit up now or ..."

"How about we find out a little more before you drown in someone's vintage basement again?" Phoebe doesn't mean to sound so sharp, but she can't help it. Every nerve in her body is tingling with an almost audible 'no!' but Max doesn't seem like there's anything that will deter him and she's terrified that he'll go out on his own again against ... him.

Phoebe shudders involuntarily. She only remembers bits and pieces about that night, but what she does remember is the clear pleasure her captor took in hurting her ... humiliating her. If she ever told Max half the things the creep did to her ...

Max would kill him.

And go to jail, Phoebe reminds herself. Or worse, get killed himself, as he almost did. Her stomach clenches and the pizza suddenly feels like a rock. She knows she can't live like this forever, afraid, but how much can she risk outside of herself? This isn't her parent's battle, it's not really Max's either -- it's hers -- and if it wasn't for this damned broken arm ...

Max's voice interrupts her thoughts. "Pheebs? Did you hear what I said?"

"Sorry, Max, what did you say?" She shakes her head and forces herself to concentrate.

"This guy stole Dark Mayhem's matter intensifier, that's how he was able to make the giant fish tank I almost drowned in overnight. Dark Mayhem is not too happy with him."

"Good to hear even the bad guys hate him, I guess."

"There's a price on his head. Which probably makes operating in Metroburg even worse, if not virtually impossible. Which leads me to an idea ... what if Dark Mayhem offers Gemini a deal? A return of the matter intensifier and all will be forgiven and everyone can go back to their bad choice lives? Hmmm?"

Phoebe looks at him skeptically. "One, I don't Dark Mayhem is the 'all will be forgiven' sort and two, how would we get him to do that for us?"

Max laughs, his dark eyes crinkling with glee. With a quick dig through some hidden drawer, he pulls out a very convincing Dark Mayhem mask and puts it over his own face, modulating his voice into a reasonable facsimile of Dark Mayhem's throaty tone. "I think it might be something that can be arranged."

Phoebe's heart sinks. "Max, that's a terrible idea. If you get caught we'll have both of them against us."

"Do you have a better idea?" Max challenges, pulling off the mask.

Her throat is so dry it's hard to talk. Damn it, she can't go through the rest of her life afraid -- she has a job, a duty to do but this .... "No, I don't," she says eventually, hating how scared she really is and how nothing except catching this creep will make the fear, possibly, go away.

Make her family safe again. Make her and Max safe again.

"So ..." she says, taking the Dark Mayhem mask in her hand and examining it with as much detachment as she can muster. "When do we make the offer?"

Max smiles. "Leave that to me."

0o0o0o

continued in Chapter 6

** _Sorry for the delay, real life interfered! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited. I appreciate it so much! All reviews and the rest are very much loved. Thank you!_

 

 


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